Draco Malfoy and the Deathly Hallows
by Ilovepi
Summary: He wasn't a bad boy, just born into the wrong family. While his nemesis hunted Horcruxes, what happened to Draco? This is the story of his life throughout that year.
1. Dark Lord Ascending

**Chapter 1  
**

**Dark Lord Ascending**

The boy nibbled on his bottom lip nervously, not taking his eyes off the slowly revolving body on the ceiling. He was in his own house but it did not feel like his, not since the Death Eaters came.

_You _are_ a Death Eater,_ he reminded himself. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater, but not by choice. _It sort of comes with the family,_ he decided. He was not a bad boy, a cruel boy. It was true that he had been a bully, looking down on those of lesser bloods but that was what he had been taught to do. Once again, it came with the family.

Under the table, he reached for his mother's cold hand. She clasped his tightly, not changing her gaze from a distant spot on the wall.

Two men entered the room, their black cloaks trailing behind.

"You are very nearly late," commented the high, cold voice that tormented Draco's dreams. "Severus, sit here. Yaxley, there."

Draco stole a glance at his former teacher as Snape took his seat. The Dark Lord's favorite looked pale, as always, his black eyes unreadable. He returned Draco's gaze calmly, and the boy quickly went back to staring at the body which hung suspended from nothing. There was something familiar about it, something achingly familiar.

The voice went on. "…I shall need to borrow a wand…"

Draco's head shot up. A wand? That was like asking to take someone's arm! Who would it be?

"Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore."

He was addressing Draco's father. His father looked terrified. "My Lord?" Draco saw his mother reach for her husband.

"Your wand, Lucius. I will require your wand."

He gave his master his wand, his life.

"What is it?"

"Elm, my Lord," Lucius whispered.

"And the core?"

"Dragon—dragon heartstring."

"Good."

Draco saw his father jerk a little, as though almost expecting to get a wand in exchange. Voldemort noticed too.

"My wand, Lucius? Give you my wand?" His red eyes glinted.

Some people sniggered a little. Draco did not look anywhere but at the hanging figure. He was ashamed for his father's sake but knew better than to show it. Memories of last year still haunted his dreams.

"I have given you such liberties, Lucius, is that not enough for you?" Draco was no longer ignoring the conversation. He prayed that his father would lie well enough.What is it about my presence in your home that displeases you, Lucius?"

"Nothing—nothing, my lord!"

"Such_lies,_ Lucius…"

Draco froze. He heard hissing, a rustle…the snake was under the table. Nagini. He closed his eyes in terror.

Nagini emerged from under the table and slithered up Voldemort's chair. It was huge. Its master was still staring at Draco's father.

"Why do the Malfoys look so unhappy with their lot? Is my return, my rise to power, not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?"

"Of course, my Lord." Draco heard his father's voice tremble. "We did desire it—we do." His mother nodded, not looking at the Dark Lord or the snake. Draco glanced quickly at Voldemort but looked away immediately.

"My Lord," began Draco's aunt, Bellatrix, "it is an honor to have you here, in our family's house. There can be no higher pleasure."

_Yeah, right,_ thought Draco. _This isn't really your house anyway._ Bellatrix had spent the last twelve years in Azkaban for torturing two Aurors until they went crazy. Draco knew their son, Neville. He was stupid and clumsy, but Draco sometimes felt a little guilty that the other boy had had to live without his parents because of his aunt.

"No higher pleasure," Voldemort repeated. "That means a great deal, Bellatrix, coming from you."

She blushed and her eyes filled with joyful tears. "My Lord knows I speak nothing but the truth!"

"No higher pleasure," he said again. "Even compared to the happy event, I hear, has taken place in your family this week?"

Draco was confused. So was his aunt.

"I don't know what you mean, my Lord."

"I'm talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And yours, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud."

Everyone laughed. Draco tried to block out the sound. He knew they were laughing at him.

He knew the werewolf. Remus Lupin had been his teacher in third year. And despite the comments he had made all year about the raggedness of his robes, Lupin had been the best Defense teacher they had ever had. That is, with the possible exception of Snape.

Third year…Draco glanced back up at the revolving body on the ceiling. He knew who she was…

"…_Muggles have a device called a _telephone,_ which enables them to talk over long distance…"_

"_You did WHAT? You took Muggle Studies, Draco? I'm very disappointed in you. My pureblood son, taking a course about lesser people…I don't understand it. I am ashamed of you, Draco, _ashamed!_"_

"…Nothing to do with us, or the beast she marries!" Bellatrix was nearly hysterical.

Everyone was laughing, laughing at them.

"What say you, Draco?"

The boy froze.

The Dark Lord continued. "Will you baby-sit the cubs?"

He glanced, terrified, at his father as everyone made fun of the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy was just staring at his wandless hands. Narcissa, however, caught her son's eye and shook her head. She continued staring at the wall.

"Enough," said Voldemort. The room was instantly quiet. He continued, comparing the family trees to real trees, advising Bellatrix to prune hers. Finally, he pointed his wand—no, he pointed Lucius Malfoy's wand—at the figure Draco had been staring at. She came to life and began to struggle.

"Do you recognize our guest, Severus?"

The potions teacher looked up. He looked at the woman.

"Severus! Help me!"

"Ah, yes…" Snape knew.

"And you, Draco?"

Draco shook his head jerkily. He did not look at the woman, now that she had woken.

"But you would not have taken her classes," said Voldemort.

_Except that I did._

"For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage, who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

People understood now. Someone laughed.

Voldemort continued explaining the crimes of the woman, who was now sobbing.

"Severus…please…"

She caught sight of Draco and her eyes widened. She now understood what he had told her those years ago…but it was too late.

"_Aveda Kedavra."_

Green light flashed. Draco almost screamed, but found he couldn't. His teacher fell onto the table. People jumped.

Draco fell off his chair.

"Dinner, Nagini."


	2. Dreams

**Chapter Two: Memories**

"_You must kill Dumbledore," announced a high cold voice._

_The boy froze. His knees were cold. "M-me?"_

"_Yes. You."_

"_My Lord…" began Narcissa Malfoy. With a flick of his wand, the Master silenced the woman. She opened her mouth and couldn't speak. Her terrified features loomed in the boy's mind._

"_You, boy, will kill Dumbledore…or suffer the consequences."_

"_Yes, master. I will not fail you." His voice trembled._

"_See that you don't."_

Draco woke with a start. Memories haunting him. It had been a long time since he had slept the whole night without waking. He shuddered and glanced at the clock.

2:45 a.m.

He rolled over and went back to sleep.

"_You have not succeeded."_

"_Please, Master, give me time. I'm almost there. Just a little more time…"_

"_Really? You have not completed your task. You must suffer."_

"_Please, Master—"_

"Crucio!"

_Pain! A thousand knives stuck in his flesh! Hot irons! Searing through his head oh make it stop stop it please help!_

"_Master, my son!"_

"_Move, Narcissa. He failed."_

"_Master, please!"_

"_Out of my way, woman. _Crucio!"

Draco woke up and stared at the ceiling. He had failed. His mother could not protect him. He was hurt. That dream was one of the worst. He glanced at the clock.

3:32

He moaned and tried to stay awake. He failed.

"_Severus…please…"_

_Green light._

"_Dinner, Nagini."_

4:17

The boy groaned and tried hard to suppress the memory of his former teacher crying, falling, dying…

Yes, Charity Burbage had been his teacher, if only for the first semester of third year. _And only because that's all I could get away with,_ he thought wryly. She had not understood, then, what he meant when he told her that his parents would not let him continue taking the course.

Personally, he had found it fascinating. Life without magic was unthinkable, yet these people managed daily, even coming up with their own inventions to take the place of simple wand-work. Despite what his parents, especially his father, said, Muggles were actually not idiots. It wasn't their fault they couldn't do magic.

But, naturally, his parents had been furious when they found out he had been taking a course he knew they disproved of.

Draco screwed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to block the memories. Soon he was fast asleep again.

"_So let us discuss your options, Draco."_

"My_ options! I'm standing here with a wand—I'm about to kill you—" The wand felt sweaty in his hand. After all that, he could not fail. The consequences would be great. This must be done. But he could not do it._

"_My dear boy, let us have no more pretenses about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means." The old man was actually smiling._

"_I haven't got any options!" The wind pushed at him and he stumbled back a step. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!" _

_That was the truth._

"_I appreciate the difficulty of your position. Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort," Oh don't say the name, "realized that I suspected you. I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you. But now at last we can speak plainly to each other…No harm has been done, you hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived…I can help you, Draco."_

_Yeah, right. "No you can't. Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."_

_He kept speaking his voice like a calm cup of tea. "We can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise…"_

_He'll kill me he'll find me I can't kill you don't die they're coming I'm scared I succeeded I'm going to die…_

_People stormed up. His friends? _

_Whirling images…a bloody man, a half dead one he had to kill!_

_Hand shaking, couldn't do it, help! New man, tall, favorite teacher—_

"Avada Kedavra"

_Big rag doll falling falling he fell to and—_

Woke with a start on his bed. For the three hundred and fourth time, he cursed himself for not taking Dumbledore's offer.

Too late.


	3. The Dark Mark

The Dark Mark

**The Dark Mark**

Draco got up early that morning, probably around six. He couldn't sleep anyway, so why pretend?

Downstairs, Death Eaters kept trailing in and out of what had been Draco's home. It wasn't anymore. After all, home is where you felt safe, right?

This was probably the most dangerous place in England. Maybe even in the whole world.

His mother mostly stayed in her room or wandered around pretending to be useful. His father was practically never home, anyway. He went around on His business.

The Dark Lord himself had taken over the master bedroom, the dining hall…basically the whole house.

Draco was scared.

He went to find his mother.

He knocked on the door of the spare bedroom his mother was living in. "Come in," she called.

She didn't seem surprised to see him, even though it was six in the morning. Her long hair hung down her back.

The war had not been good to Narcissa Black Malfoy. Her home had been taken over, her world destroyed, her husband constantly in danger…and her baby, her pride and joy, was learning to be a murderer.

"Oh, Draco," she breathed, and pulled him into a tight hug.

Suddenly he gasped, his face twisted in pain.

_A room…a long hall, a table, a painting in the back. His Master was sitting on a chair, robes sweeping the floor. A small man with watery eyes and what resembled a silvery glove clutched at his arm. His arm hurt…._

"_Draco!"_

_Someone was calling him._

"Draco!" Narcissa shook her son. "Are you okay?"

The boy staggered back, clutching his arm. His mother gasped.

"It's the Mark?" she asked, hurrying him to the door. "Where are they?"

"Downstairs," Draco gasped out.

"Run!" she ordered.

With a horrified look, Draco bolted out of the room. He raced to the stairs, tripped, stumbled, caught himself, continued running, leapt over an umbrella, threw open a door and finally arrived, panting, at the meeting place.

He was greeted with the sight of dozens of wizards in black robes, some masked, standing around looking terrified. His gaze, however, was drawn directly to the red-eyed wizard with the snake coiled around his neck.

"You are late, Draco."

Draco bowed hurriedly. "I-I'm sorry, Master."

"Why didn't you Apparate?" the Dark Lord snapped.

"I…I haven't passed my test, Master." Draco was trembling.

"Why should that make a difference?"

"I…it won't Master."

"Good!" Now the Dark Lord turned to the assembly. "Everyone, you know what we are doing. The Potter brat is moving today, correct, Severus?"

"Yes, Master," came the calm voice of Professor Snape from behind a mask.

"Do not kill Potter! He is mine!" spat Voldemort. "Mine! Just stun him!"

"Yes, Master," various people murmured.

"Then let us go do this. Cowardice and stupidity will be punished, of course." He walked to the door and flung it open. "Then let us leave."

The cloaked figures followed their master out of the door, some pulling masks out on their way. Draco spotted his father, looking worried without a wand, standing watching everyone leave. The war had not been good to Lucius, either.

Draco sat in a tight ball on the floor and waited.

One hour…two…four…

* * *

His tattoo hurt suddenly and he heard a loud CRACK. His father had disappeared.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember what that stupid instructor had said.

_Destination._

A gate…nowhere he had ever been. Some gardens, calm houses. The Dark Lord sending hexes left and right…

_Deliberation._

_Okay, okay, I'm thinking hard._

_Determination_

If he didn't get there, he would be tortured. That should be enough determination.

He screwed his eyes up again, concentrated hard on the gate. He turned and—

Was somewhere else. He was immediately aware of a pain in his foot. Sitting down painfully, he pulled off his shoe and once again closed his eyes, this time to block out the gruesome sight.

He had splinched himself, leaving a toe behind.

"…let Potter escape again!" cursed the Dark Lord. The others cowered back. Draco noticed his aunt leaning over what looked like a corpse. With a jolt, he realized that it was his uncle, Rodolphus. A number of others appeared to be hurt.

Bellatrix straightened up, looking furious. "Master," she said, "I think I know the scum who lives there." She waved a hand at the house.

"Yes?"

"I think…I think the traitor who used to be my sister lives here."

"Ahhh," the Dark Lord surveyed the house. "Would you like to stand guard here, Bella? I am fairly certain the boy and that giant oaf have already Apparated away, but we can't let these people think that it is acceptable to cross Lord Voldemort, now can we?"

"Certainly not, my Lord," replied the witch. "Thank you, thank you."

The Dark Lord suddenly noticed Draco. "Well, boy, what's wrong?"

"I—I uh, splinched myself, Master."

He snorted. "Idiot." Then, without warning, "Crucio!"

Pain! Hot, searing pain…hot pokers on his arm…knives twisting in his flesh…

And it was over. He found himself curled on the ground in a ball, the Dark Lord standing over him smiling.

**_Please R&R_**


	4. Servant

Do you think I own anything?

**Servant**

"My Lord?"

Not many people spoke to the Dark Lord without being spoken to. Few of those who did survived.

Bellatrix Lestrange, however, was not a normal person. Besides for being nearly as crazy as the Dark Lord—that thought alone was enough to get the thinker murdered—she was almost in love with her Master. She was probably, as she claimed, his favorite. She was not murdered for speaking out of turn.

_Oh, well._

"What is it, Bella?" Voldemort snapped, turning sharply away form the boy he was leering at.

"My Lord…" To his surprise, Draco saw his aunt staring at _him. "_My Lord, can the boy stay here with me? Maybe I can get something useful out of him."

Voldemort laughed. "He's yours, Bella. Do not fail me. That sister of yours and whoever is with her deserve nothing less than slow death."

"She is no sister of mine, My Lord. She, and filth she lives with, shall die. Painfully." Bellatrix's dark hair was, as usual, utterly disheveled and it nearly stood on end. She glanced at the boy who was now her charge.

_Her slave, more likely._ Draco trembled.

One by one, the other Death Eaters began Apparating away, leaving Draco and his new mistress alone by the cottage.

"Well, boy, come over here so I can look at you!"

Draco attempted to stand. Sparkles flashed in front of his eyes. When his vision cleared, he was face to face with a blade of grass. His aunt snorted.

"Can't stand a little pain, Drakey?" she taunted. "Tut, tut. Can't have that in a Death Eater, can we?"

"N-no," Draco gasped, hauling himself onto his knees.

"Drakey, Drakey. You take orders from me now, don't you? So let me put this into simple English for you. I tell you do, you do."

Draco nodded, bringing another bout of sparks to his eyes.

She pointed her wand at him. He flinched. "I said, stand up."

Draco stood. His mind was miraculously clear of pain. Frankly, it was clear of everything. Everything except and inner voice saying, "Your leg will kill after this."

"Good boy."

The day continued in the same vein. Not once did Bellatrix offer to help him heal his splinched foot. She did not offer him lunch, either, though he saw her munching thoughtfully on a sandwich as she watched him scurry around on the senseless tasks she had given him.

The sun had almost set when Narcissa Malfoy appeared in front of them. She wasted no time getting to the point.

"Bella, what the hell were you thinking, keeping my Draco out here all day with a bleeding foot??" she screamed.

"What took you so long, Cissy?" Bella asked calmly. "I expected you hours ago." Now she was munching an apple.

Narcissa shrugged. "It took me a while to get Lucuis to tell me what happened to Draco and where he was. But I know you Bella. Don't evade my question." She paused. "Why did you torture my son?"

"Think about it, Cissy," Bellatrix said, tossing the core aside. "He's under my wing now, not the Dark Lord's. He's probably safer."

Draco's mother flung her head back and _cackled_. "You call that safe? Bella?" she asked, pointing to her son, bent with the weight of a basket of rocks in spite of his blood soaked shoe. "Safe? With blood still leaking out of that foot and a toe still missing? Safe? Pale as an ghost! Did you even feed him anything, Bella?"

She didn't have to answer. Her reply was written all over her face.

"Oh, Bella. How could you?" Without waiting for a response, Narcissa hurried to Draco, banishing the basket with a flick of her wand. She pulled out an orange, Vanished its peel and handed it to her son. While he greedily ate the slices, juice running down his face, she knelt and carefully removed his shoe.

Wincing at the sight of all the blood, she painstakingly siphoned most of the blood off with her wand and tapped the wound. It stopped bleeding. But it didn't stop hurting.

"All right, Draco. Time to go home."

"I beg to differ." Both mother and son looked up to see Bellatrix standing above them. "Draco stays here."

"Bella—" Narcissa began.

"Do you even know where we are, Cissy?" Bella asked, waving perfectly manicured hand at the house behind them. Narcissa straightened, stared at the house and gasped. The remaining color in her face vanished.

"It's…it's Meda's house, isn't it?" she asked.

"That traitor isn't Andromeda, anymore, Cissy. She renounced her pureblood heritage. She's worse than a mudblood. She's going to die."

"By your hand, I suppose?"

"Naturally. I swore it the day she left."

"I remember…."

Narcissa hugged her son. "I'll be back in the morning, son." She stood, turned and vanished.


End file.
